He Poured His Heart Into it
by mylastwords98
Summary: But enough about sad sh** like this, Dave slowly stands up and walks across the concrete road to collect his shades and gather himself. He quickly throws them on and that completes his poker face because bro had always told him that he put all of his emotions, all of his heart, into his eyes. Warning: Minor character death, swearing, violence, and possible lemon later on


**Warning: Minor character death, violence, swearing, and a possible lemon later on :D **

**((I don't own Homestuck, Andrew Hussie does, please comment/review))**

**He poured his heart into it**

**Act one**

You know that one moment in life where everything changes and there's nothing you can do about it? Where, something big happens-no something _huge_ happens and you wake in terror from your nightmare only to realize that everything you thought wasn't real, is your own personal reality? Yeah, that's what I thought.

A boy, about fifteen or sixteen years old slowly shuffles over to a body lying on the ground. His shitty sword clatters onto the ground as he loosens his grip on it. He has no expression on his face and his shades cover his red orbs, he clenches his hand into a fist as he looms over the body for a while and just stares. He grinds his teeth together and if you look closely you can see that he's slowly crumbling and breaking and there's nothing you can do about it. If you knew him more, you would have been able to tell that he was breaking hours ago, when the fight went down. But there isn't any time to think about that. Right now, this shit is important and it has everything to do with life and death. Slowly the boy closes his red eyes behind his shades, he gently flips his blonde hair out of his eyes and he kneels on the ground. He rests his hands gently on his lap and when he attempts to speak, to just say _something_, nothing comes out besides a choked sobbed that he has been holding back for the last few _years_. A low gasping noise escapes his lips as he opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water and just when you think he can hold himself together, just when he thinks that everything is cool, chill, he breaks. It starts out low at first, the muttering of "Bro" under his breath escapes past his lips over and over again like a mantra until he's screaming. And his throat hurts and he realizes that there's nothing he can do to save him. Yes, Dave Strider is breaking and crumbling, the coolest of the cool. He's screaming into the dark sky and he just keeps yelling and doing shit that cool kids should never do until he's finally full out sobbing and there's no one there to comfort him because Bro is dead and his ecto sister is somewhere else and he can't get a hold of anybody. Tears stream down Dave's face and his shades are fogging up until he grips his shades in his fingers and he throws them across the concrete road that leads into the alleyway and he opens his red eyes and he's shouting again but then he remembers he has to keep his cool. He remembers that he has to stay calm because he's supposed to be the cool one and the one who has no emotions, the one who never breaks in a forever never ending cycle until finally, a day like today happens and he just fucking snaps. So Dave Strider finally tears his eyes away from his bro and he looks up at the sky, no emotion on his face, the tears having long sense dried and he just sits there. The sword still sticking out of his brother's chest, and the most saddest fucking thing ever is that it's bro's own sword, it's his own sword that someone had plunged into his chest.

Dave's bro had always been the best, he had his own gang that Dave wasn't allowed to join until he was eighteen but that's only because his bro cared for him. God he's such a fucking wimp for crying, Dave tells himself over and over again. But his bro had had a gang that he created himself, and that was dangerous in itself so this was kind of expected. The fight that had gone down had been nasty, they weren't supposed to have weapons but the other gang had brought guns and other shit so Dave's bro had taken the sword out of his sylladex. And then-

But enough about sad shit like this, Dave slowly stands up and walks across the concrete road to collect his shades and gather himself. He quickly throws them on and that completes his poker face because bro had always told him that he put all of his emotions, all of his heart, into his eyes. So carefully Dave grabs his phone out of his back pocket from his black skinny jeans and he dials nine one, one, before he presses the call button he takes a deep breath and composes himself.

"Houston, Texas police department, what seems to be the problem?"

"My brother's dead."

**End of Act One**

_Hello there! This is going to be my fist fanfiction that I'm actually going to complete! :D Please review and stuff because this is totally not done, sorry for it being so short! But I'm working on it!_


End file.
